


Cassian - Blissfully ignorant

by Munnin



Series: Rogue One Cycle [9]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9691973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Mon Mothan wonders at the relationship between Captain Andor and General Draven.





	

“Captain Andor.” General Draven called to Cassian as the briefing broke up. 

Mon Mothma watched the intelligence agent’s body language shift as soon as he heard his name. More upright, more formal. His arms behind his back in respect. 

Cassian Andor was, by far, one of the Alliance’s most effective operatives. But somehow she felt that he was less theirs, and more Draven’s.

“Report to my office before you leave.” Draven didn’t even look up as he gave the order but Andor nodded all the same, heels clicking slightly as he was dismissed. 

Mon took her time to study Draven as he studied the reports, wondering at the history between them. She knew, only in passing, that Andor’s parents had been killed by the Empire when he was young. That their rebel friends had recused and raised the boy. That, like others, he had spent his life in this fight. Being passed from one guardian to another as more than one parental figure had been lost, killed, or taken. Had Draven been one of those parental figures? At what point in this young man’s life had the hard-faced General taken Andor under his wing?

Was it Draven who pushed Andor? Who fuelled the quiet fury that drove Andor on? That made him willing to die for the cause.

Or more frighteningly - willing to kill. 

To kill intimately. Not the way fighter pilots killed – fiercely, in life and death struggles. 

Or the way generals killed – distantly, calculatingly, judging the odd as if the lives under their command were numbers to be weighed against the greater good. 

If the whispers Mon heard were true, more than once Andor had committed murder in the name of the cause. Both in hot blood and cold. 

What it Draven who pushed the young man to that? Gave Andor uncompromising orders that lead him into darkness. And left him there, with blood on his hands. 

Mon knew she too had blood on her hands. She had ordered raids, sent men and women out to die and counted to cost afterwards. She felt the weight of that and carried it as her burden.

But she had never killed with her own hands. Never watched the light leave another sentient being’s eyes. 

It left a mark on the soul. Or so she’d observed. Some carried it as a badge of honour, others as a stone around their neck. 

Draven was the former. And Andor, the later. 

Did Draven notice the difference? Did he care? Or was the slow death of Cassian Andor’s peace just another calculated loss. 

She realised Draven was staring back at her. Those hard, grey eyes unflinching. “What?”

“What do you want with Captain Andor?” She asked, the words out of her mouth before she could stop herself. 

Draven stood up, straightening his jacket. “Ignorance is bliss, Senator. Better you remain blissful.” He passed behind her as he exited the room and Mon felt her skin crawl.


End file.
